To What Does Love Owe?
by B-chan3
Summary: I've posted what I have of this on MM.org as well. It's a B/V in those missing three years. Enjoy!
1. I smell a rat!

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
  
  
Bulma gazed happily into Yamcha's cloudy eyes; she was as happy as she'd ever been, and frankly, as happy as she ever thought she would be in her entire life. Something was different that night, but that little teal- haired woman couldn't quite place it. Not yet. He seemed distant; perhaps too distant. But it was too soon to tell.  
  
She quickly tossed away any doubt she had at the moment, and bid him goodnight. After a lingering kiss, she gave him a tired smile, and retreated into the depths of the living quarters of Capsule Corps.  
  
Meanwhile, Vegeta sat on the roof above the lovers, pondering the pitiful human's existence. He knew what Yamcha was doing behind Bulma's back, and even though he despised the woman with every bit of his soul, that wasn't right to do to ANY female, not even this pathetic excuse for one.  
  
He thought about what exactly made her so pathetic to him. First of all, was the ardent temper that she bore; Vegeta had no earthly idea of where she inherited it from, as her mother was a complete moron, and her father quiet, and docile. Bulma was none of these things. Her temper actually rivaled his own, which seemed to bother the already troubled Saiya-jin prince. Another thing that disturbed him was this whole 'relationship' deal she had going with Yamcha. A lowly human. "Hell," he thought to himself, "Krillin is stronger than he is. THAT, is most certainly saying something degrading of him.."  
  
As Vegeta stood, he shook all thoughts of the ridiculous human female, and turned to glance at his own stomach, which emitted soft rumblings, letting him know he'd waited much too long for food. He smirked to himself, and lowered himself from the roof, and straight through the back door.  
  
"Stupid Kakarott, always having to be stronger than his prince… Son of a bitch," Vegeta was more than irritated at that idiot Gokou's recent show of power, and that violet haired boy. Vegeta just couldn't let go of that. The boy's ki had seemed oddly familiar, but the Saiya-jin couldn't near placing it. He contemplated this for a moment, before chucking those thoughts out of his head as well, but not before running straight into Bulma as he turned into the Brief's kitchen.  
  
The sheer force of him merely bumping into her had knocked her over, and he found her screaming obscenities left and right at him, but all he could do was frown at her for a moment, step over the peculiar little woman, and head straight for the refrigerator.  
  
"WHY YOU! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT TO ME! YOU BAKA! VEGETA! I'M TALKING TO YOU..YOU..YOU..MORON! STUPID ARROGANT PRINCE! GET BACK HERE. I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET! I'LL KILL YOU!!!" Bulma had finally found the nerve to stand, and had surprised herself in standing up to Vegeta like that; hell, barley anyone would've, aside from Gokou, but he was the only being stronger than Vegeta anyway, so of course he wouldn't have reason to be afraid of him. But Bulma, on the other hand, didn't even know how fly or control her ki, none the less harness and throw a ball of the stuff.  
  
Vegeta had finished his raid on the refrigerator, and was holding plates upon plates of left-overs, a loaf of bread, and other miscellaneous food items that he found remotely edible. Some even tasted.. what was the human word.. decent? He shoved right by the enraged Briefs woman, and upon arriving at the base of the stairs, turned to her, and turned up the side of his mouth, letting that trademark smirk of his shine through.  
  
"I'd like to see you try, woman," was all that escaped from his lips. Still smirking, and almost chuckling to himself, he made his way up the stairs to his quarters, leaving a dumbfounded Bulma in his wake.  
  
Vegeta sat on the edge of his bed, shoving anything to eat that he got his hands on into his mouth, but being amazingly tidy about it. As he finished the last of what he'd brought up with him, he moved to the window that was nestled against his bed.  
  
As he sat there and gazed out, he let loose an almost painful sigh, sometimes wishing Kakarott had left him dead. Always wishing Freiza wouldn't have destroyed his home planet. By now, he would have surely been crowned king. King of the most powerful empire anyone would've seen, would've known. King of what was rightfully his. But now, he was a mere prince, and of what? One full breed, and a nine year old demi Saiya-jin. This, he thought, was absurd, and nothing to take pride in. There was nothing left for him to take satisfaction in.. nothing.  
  
The prince had finally figured out where Vegeta-sei would have been if it were still in space, and he sighed, gazing up towards the non-existent planet.  
  
Inwardly, he scolded himself. This was yet another show of weakness. Another show of reason why he hadn't achieved his destiny. Of why he wasn't among the legendary Super Saiya-jins. Longing for something that wasn't even there. He was longing for a people who no longer survived. One more sigh came and went like a summer shower, but the prince refused to surrender himself to something as low as a tear.  
  
Furious at himself, furious at the world for what they'd done to him, he cried out in despair, in anger, in hopelessness. "DAMNIT," Vegeta threw a punch at the window, shattering it, glass skirting across his soft knuckles. He cursed himself for always wearing gloves, which in turn made his hands sensitive, and the skin soft to the touch. Crimson had engulfed his right hand, and he swore at himself again for being so naive.  
  
He stepped into his bathroom, his own private bathroom. Thank Kami-sama that they Briefs family had the sense to give him this much privacy. There may have been some.. rash and unintended causalities involved if they'd not given him this right to privacy.  
  
Cleansing his scored hand in the cool water running from the tap, he stared blankly at the ruby colored water, which trickled down the drain. He mused with the thought of it leaving a scar, and grimaced. He had not one scar over the length of his short, well-muscled body. The prince shrugged, not really caring. No woman, or man, for that matter would ever lay eyes over him in such a way. He took no pride in scars, thinking that if he had any, they would be subtle reminders of battles lost, and hits against him that could have well been prevented.  
  
Vegeta slipped his armor off of his head, skimming over the extremity of it; holes, and burnt spots harking back recollections of his death at Freiza's hand. Vibrations racked through his frame; it was a memory he hadn't wanted to recall. He let his bare fingers trail across the Royal Crest of the house of Vegeta-sei. Another remembrance of who he could've been, or what could've happened.  
  
Letting the feather-light armor drop to the ground, he peeled off the snug- fitting fight suit shortly after he'd kicked off his boots; they hit his door with a rather strident thud. He reached over for a paid of pajama pants the silly earth woman had bought him, and pulled them on, rubbing his shoulders after; he was sore from the limits he was pushing himself to, to achieve this new level of strength that he so desperately desired.  
  
A solitary eyebrow perked up as he thought he heard Yamcha's voice. "Hm… I thought he left hours ago," Vegeta's curiosity got the best of him, and he floated out of the already shattered window.  
  
Yamcha had run into one of his many, MANY girlfriends outside of Capsule Corps. Front gates, and had taken way too long in speaking with her. She chattered on about what she wanted to do with him that Friday, how much she cared for him, and other things that he didn't really care about. What he did care about, however, was a very large, rapidly approaching power source that made the hair on the back of his neck stand.  
  
"Vegeta.."  
  
"…What? What the hell are you talking about, Yamcha?" The raven haired girl looked up at him with inquisitive eyes.  
  
He shook his head absent-mindedly. He had no idea how fast Vegeta was actually coming towards him.  
  
"Look, babe, I'd better go. It's getting late. Gomen." He leaned down, and kissed her just as he had kissed Bulma earlier that evening. Just as he was about to pull away, he felt something wrap around the collar of his shirt, and he shuddered.  
  
Who ever the female he was with screamed bloody murder, and made even the Mighty Prince cringe.  
  
"Shut up, woman. This has nothing to do with you," His words were short, and his tone didn't sound like he was out for a midnight stroll and wanted to talk with someone. Yamcha shuddered again. Vegeta looked back to him, and scowled. He didn't know why he was taking the stupid woman's side in this, and he wasn't thinking of the onyx haired one. "What in the hell are you doing, human? Why are you showing compassion to her?" As he finished his question, his voice was little more than a growl.  
  
"I..uh.. I.. You see.."  
  
"I know what you're doing, Yamcha," Vegeta tightened his hold on his collar. "No woman deserves this. NO woman. Not even that slut." He pointed to the girl, who looked on, utterly terrified. "Tell Bulma. Tomorrow. If you don't, I will, and trust me," that godforsaken smirk of his jumped across his well-defined face. "I can, and will, exaggerate at my own will."  
  
Yamcha gulped, and nodded. He well knew that the prince could kill him at any time he wished, even though he was supposed to have changed, no one really knew for sure.  
  
Vegeta let the terrified man go, satisfied by the look of sheer terror that had invaded the bored, careless expression that had been there not five minutes before.  
  
With that, the prince returned to his room, and laid on his bed, slipping into the same ritual of sleepless nightmares that invaded his soul. 


	2. You should really have killed him, Veget...

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
  
  
Vegeta wondered inwardly to himself if his sleep had always been as restless as it had since he'd come to Earth. He almost never got more than two hours of solid rest, and on the rare occasion that he did, he would be in an exceptionally good mood for an hour or so, before he ran off to train. His dreams weren't really dreams; they were nightmares… visions of Vegeta-sei, of Freiza, of his own father.  
  
The prince sat up in his bed with an enormous amount of speed, and rested his forehead in his left hand with an almost inaudible groan. None anything that had been happening lately made sense to him in the least. Especially why he'd had the impulse to stick up for that silly Briefs woman the night before.  
  
He glanced out of his shattered window, and noted that the black against the horizon was quickly giving way to shades of orange and pink. Another grunt later, he was in a full sitting position, and pulling on those dirty white boots of his, making his trek across the bedroom to the bathroom. He found himself kicking glass shards out of the way, courtesy of his broken window, and scratched hand. The Saiya-jin almost felt bad for what he felt he'd probably end up having to tell Bulma. IF he had a mate, and IF she was running around with other guys, he'd be mad, too. He pondered this for a moment, tossing around the idea of not telling her. He made up his mind; at breakfast, he'd tell her. But for now, he just decided to concentrate on washing up.  
  
The cool water felt good against his face; even though he was a Saiya- jin, he felt the need to be clean whenever possible. After all, he was a prince. After freshening up a bit, he walked back into his bedroom, via the path he'd made coming the opposite way. Vegeta stepped into the royal blue suit, and grimaced as he picked up the tattered chest plate. He dismissed any negative thoughts, and shoved the thing over his head, finishing off with his gloves. He flexed his fingers, and smirked, walking off to breakfast.  
  
Meanwhile, Bulma was in the kitchen, humming something or a rather to herself as she attempted to make herself and his highness something to start off the day with. Admittedly, she couldn't cook a decent dinner to save her life, but hell. She wasn't a culinary chef, she was a scientist. She had no need for cooking; she had people to do it for her. But, unfortunately, not yet. So she was stuck cooking for herself and Vegeta. On today's menu were eggs, bacon, coffee, and toast. Bulma picked herself off a slice of toast, a half of an egg, and a few strips of bacon; the rest was left for Vegeta. And there was a lot left. Just as she sat down, she saw the prince come into view that almost… irresistible smirk on his face. Irresistible? Bulma shook her head to herself. 'What am I thinking?'  
  
"Is the rest for me?" Vegeta's gruff voice broke the little woman's train of thought off completely.  
  
"Oh, uh.." Bulma studied Vegeta's well-built body; he was short, but Bulma figured that was part of his charm. Her father had always said that short men were cocky, and this one was no exception.  
  
"Well?" Vegeta was becoming inpatient. Bulma could tell by his sudden change of facial expression. He stood in the doorway, arms folded neatly across his chest, fingers tapping across the mass of pure muscle that encased them.  
  
"Yes, Vegeta. It's yours," Bulma sat down to finish eating, as Vegeta settled himself across from her, and ate his fill. She'd always been amazed at how much a Saiya-jin could eat. Between Vegeta, Gohan, and Gokou, they must go through half of the world's food supply every year; she'd never imagined that a single person could eat that much. In one day, Vegeta probably ate more than she would that year.  
  
As she finished her meal, she glanced up, noticing that Vegeta was staring heavily at her. All she could do was stare back, afraid that he wanted to kill her or something. One thing she did know was if he did decide he wanted her gone, she could do absolutely nothing to stop him; she was powerless.  
  
Vegeta studied the little woman intently. He'd never noticed how beautiful she was until now. He pushed back in his chair, still gazing over her. She saw this as an opportunity to get up and leave, thinking he was done, but he simply sat back, still staring at her. She was halfway up out of her chair when his voice brought her from her trance.  
  
"Sit. I have to talk to you." Bulma studied him for a moment, completely and utterly confused.  
  
"Vegeta, I really can't. I have to get to work. We'll talk another time." This was a massive blow to his pride. He'd actually spoken civilly to her, and this was how he was repaid? His nose wrinkled up a bit, and he growled. Vegeta sauntered up to her, stopping only inches away from her face as he glared at her. 'If this woman is afraid, she does a very good job of hiding it,' he thought to himself.  
  
"Listen here, woman. I actually speak to you as if you're one of my own, and this is how I'm treated? You'll damn well listen to me, and you'll do it with respect. Got it?" His last words were soft, but with a remarkable furious ring to them. Bulma nodded and stepped back, her arms doubling over her chest.  
  
"Make it fast, like I said, I have work to do." Vegeta scowled. He knew he could never hurt this little woman, but she didn't know that, so he used it to the best of his advantage. Bulma stood there, not showing any signs of moving any time soon, so he figured he'd tell her standing. It was her own damned fault if she fainted and died. He snickered at the thought, and leaned against a wall, proceeding to tell his story of how he'd seem Yamcha the previous evening. Of course he added on a little more, just to make it more dramatic, but he surprised himself and pretty much told the truth.  
  
Bulma stared at him for a moment, tears forming in those vast cerulean eyes of hers, and she moved to the table to sit, all of the defenses she'd put up just moments before coming crashing down. Vegeta had expected her to be upset, but not like this. He'd never seen his little woman cry. 'His?' He shuddered. Since when did he think of her as his? She gazed up at him, watery azure pools and all.  
  
"So.. I was right, then," her voice was shaky, and her hands trembled. He'd never seen her so distressed before. He couldn't think of anything to do except walk over to where she sat and stand by her.  
  
"What in the hell are you talking about, woman?" Bulma's sad blue eyes met his, and he saw how upset she really was.  
  
"Well, you see… I'd had the idea for a while…" She stopped and sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as a child would do. "And… I see no reason why you'd lie to me about something like that…I've actually never known of a Saiya-jin to lie at all…you've just confirmed my suspicions is all…" Vegeta stared blankly at her. 'Does she mean..?' he contemplated, ' that she knew all along? And she just sat here and did nothing?' Bulma broke down and started bawling all over again. Vegeta had a good mind to leave, and he tried, but his body just wouldn't move towards the door. They'd only move in her direction. That damned woman.  
  
Before he even realized what he was doing, he'd brought her up into his arms, and held her quivering body as close to his own as he could. He was surprised at how right it felt, though he'd never admit it to anyone, it was hard to even bring himself to acknowledge it. He was expecting her to pull away from him, but instead, her arms found their way around his waist, and she pressed the side of her face into his chest, inhaling the soft scent that was so... Vegeta. Soft and soothing, but incredibly manly. All Vegeta could do was stare down at her. He heard the doorbell ring, but paid no attention to it. It wasn't important to him right now. Not like it ever was to begin with, but especially not now.  
  
Mr. Briefs got sick of hearing the doorbell, and finally got up from the couch and the morning news to answer it. Yamcha stood there with a bouquet of a dozen red roses and a sly smile on his face.  
  
"Good morning, Mr. Briefs. Is Bulma around?" He put on the best grin he could muster. Bulma was a real gem, and he didn't want to loose her. He was hoping Vegeta hadn't told her yet, and if he had, that he'd be able to talk his way out of this one. He really did love her, it was just that... he needed some excitement in his life. He wasn't ready to settle down all the way yet. He'd let her know when he was, but that time wasn't now. Not yet. Mr. Briefs stepped aside and let Yamcha in.  
  
"She's in the kitchen eating, I think. Go ahead in."  
  
"Thanks," Yamcha hid the roses behind his back, and took a breath before entering the kitchen. As he looked in, the flowers dropped to the ground, and he stared inside.  
  
Vegeta was standing there, looking down with almost animal intensity at Bulma, who was nestled quietly against his chest; her sobs had ceased, and she stood there contently, countenance buried into the side of his neck, breathing softly against it. Vegeta had felt Yamcha's arrival, and he glanced over to him. If looks could kill, this was most definitely instant death.  
  
"Y..YOU!" Upon hearing Yamcha's voice, Bulma turned from her comfortable spot at the base of Vegeta's neck and stared; angry, distraught, saddened. Her normally bright, playful eyes were tearstained and puffy. Yamcha was full of questions. He turned to her for answers, but she simply buried her head back into Vegeta, holding him tighter. Little did Yamcha know, all of his questions were about to be answered, and not by Bulma. 


	3. Wait, maybe he DOES kill him.

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
  
  
Vegeta looked down to Bulma for a moment, and brought her chin up, so she could look at him. She simply nodded and stepped back from him, leaning herself against the counter. She knew Vegeta was mad, and she still wasn't sure of everything that had just happened. Had Vegeta tried to comfort her? Had he really taken her in his arms and held her? She sighed and turned to watch Vegeta and Yamcha go at it.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing here?!" Vegeta was angry. He was VERY angry. He didn't think Yamcha would have the nerve to come and tell her himself. Vegeta noticed the roses, and came to the conclusion that he wasn't going to tell her at all. Yamcha backed up a bit, slightly scared of Vegeta. Well. Not slightly, very scared of Vegeta. The only one stronger than him in the entire world was Son Gokou. If Vegeta lost his temper, Yamcha was as good as dead. He gulped and took another step back.  
  
"I…I came to see my Bulma…and maybe take her out today." Yamcha stuttered some, and glared at Vegeta. Bulma wiped her eyes again, and stepped forward. Vegeta saw her, and stepped aside. The sadness in her face had almost totally vanished, and was replaced by sheer rage. He smirked; she was beautiful all the time, but when she was angry she was absolutely gorgeous. Though all of her fury, she was light footed and graceful, which surprised Vegeta. Kakarott's mate was extremely clumsy when annoyed, which seemed like all the time to the prince. It was no matter to him, though. He stood back and watched the show at hand. He had been planning on telling Yamcha all himself, but hearing what she was about to tell him from her was better.  
  
"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU!" Bulma's voice echoed through the halls of the house. Yamcha was shocked at her bluntness. She walked up to him, and slapped him across his right cheek, hitting as hard as she could. Vegeta was amazed at how brutally fierce her hit actually was. 'She's got potential.' He smirked to himself. He finally decided that he'd gone crazy. Embracing this hotheaded woman, standing up for her, and then thinking about training her.  
  
"Yamcha, you cheating bastard! I can't believe you. I …I thought you actually loved me. Yamcha, it's over. I'm sick of your ways. I'm sick of you. Go be with whatever whore you want. But I'm not a whore, so it's not going to be me." Bulma turned to leave through the back door, but Vegeta grabbed her arm, preventing her from moving. She settled back against the counter, curious of why he didn't want her to leave. Bulma watched on as Vegeta made his way back to where Yamcha stood.  
  
"Listen you idiot human. I don't want you coming anywhere near Bulma ever again. I swear I'll kill you." Vegeta couldn't help but stop and listen to himself. Why did he care about Bulma? He sighed. She was stunning, and her personality was highly regarded in his opinion. She never hesitated to speak her mind, and she wouldn't give in to something she didn't want. This stupid human was destroying the woman that he admired. She had been a nervous wreck the past few weeks, and now he knew why.  
  
"What's it to you, Vegeta? Since when do you meddle in our business? I think you just need to stay the hell out of it." Yamcha immediately regretted saying all of this as soon as he saw Vegeta smirk.  
  
"I advise, Yamcha, that you get out of my sight this instant if you treasure your life." He reached out for Bulma, pulling her to his side. This surprised all three standing in the kitchen. Vegeta had surprised himself more times than he would've liked to admit just in that short amount of time that he'd been awake.  
  
Yamcha quickly nodded and scrambled for the door, picking up the once discarded roses, nearly tripping over his own feet, and quite literally fell out of the door. Bulma heard muffled chuckles coming from Vegeta's chest, and she looked to him, this time it being her asking for answers. Vegeta gazed down at her, the little one that clung to his side. Everything just felt so, so… right. He was almost ashamed of how he'd treated her in the past. It wasn't the fact that he'd been extraordinarily demanding, but how mean he'd been about it. He shook his head and bent down, scooping her up, holding her at the back and under her knees.  
  
With that, he walked up the stairs, Bulma in his arms. Vegeta was utterly amazed at what was happening. Why was he doing all of this? How could this modest woman control him like this? Control his emotions like she did?  
  
He'd arrived at where he wanted to go… his shattered window. Bulma still in his arms, he ascended up to the roof, his favorite place for reflecting. He sat her beside him, and gazed over the vast landscape. His breathing was taciturn, and he was deep in thought.  
  
"Um… Vegeta?" Bulma's soft, almost fearful voice broke the awkward silence. "Why did you bring me here? And, why… why did you stick up for me?" Vegeta shook his head. In truth, he didn't know why. He hadn't the faintest idea. Bulma had always been inquisitive, and she wasn't going to let this one slide. Vegeta could tell with every passing moment. Finally making up his mind, he jerked off one glove at a time, and tossed them inside the window. Bulma barley ever saw him without gloves. She'd always imagined he had soft hands, simply because of the fact that they were always covered. He moved his hands to the sides of her face and made her look at him again. With that, he brought her face to his, and paused a few seconds before touching his lips to her own.  
  
Bulma was flabbergasted. She didn't fight it, but didn't really lean towards it at first. When he pulled her closer to him, she melted in his arms, and gave herself into him. Vegeta felt her arms wrap around his back, and her hands prodded and groped at his back, making all of his senses sting with excitement. Her tongue begged to play with his own, but he pulled away, gazing towards the small woman intently.  
  
"There are many things I want to tell you, Bulma chan.. but for now, I have to go train." And with that, he flew off the roof, into the bright sapphire sky, leaving Bulma more dumbfounded than ever. 


	4. Come on Bulma! Don't fall!

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
  
  
Vegeta sighed; his shoulders were weighted down with what he'd just told that damn woman. This woman was ruining his life. Making the object of his obsession even more difficult to achieve; become a Super Saiya-jin. That's all he'd ever wanted, or so he thought. He shook his head neglectfully. None of this was fair. The prince had never lived his life believing everything was to be fair; he found that out the hard way. He just wanted to be left alone, was it too much to ask? Now this female, with her…curves, and her feminine scent. It was like she was an addiction. He shuddered. She was absolutely nothing like Kakarott's mate, which he was grateful for. Having to live with that? He's sooner kill himself than have to deal with her on a day to day basis.  
  
Deciding there was way too much on his mind to train, he sat himself near a tree, leaning his back against it for support. 'Damn. And I need it, too.' Another soft sigh, and he rested his head in his hands. He was completely lost. Back on Vegeta-sei, he had been too young to have to deal with females, and, well, he never really had the time until now, or even thought about it. And a stupid earth woman, too. For once in his life, the Saiya-jin prince admitted to himself, and only himself, that he didn't know what to do. Helplessness; a feeling he didn't like one bit. Forget not LIKING it, he could barley tolerate it.  
  
Meanwhile, Bulma was still sitting on the roof outside of Vegeta's window. Not because she WANTED to… because she couldn't get down. She grumbled something about showing him when he got back, and made the most pathetic attempted at tree climbing she'd ever imagined possible.  
  
Eyeing the tree that had been outside of the room that Vegeta had staked and claimed his own for as long as she could remember, she grabbed onto one branch at a time, leisurely making her way down. About a quarter of the way from the bottom, she fell straight down, not missing one branch; by the time she laid in a battered heap at the foundation of the tree, she was bruised up reasonably well. It ached to even try and stand. 'Great,' she thought to herself. 'I fell from a tree, and I can't go to work. What the fuck am I going to tell everyone else?'  
  
She finished her protesting, and hobbled back into the house, aching and already weary. Her bright azure eyes peeked into the den, where her father was still watching the morning news. "Dad?" He didn't bother to look towards her; she breathed a silent sigh of relief.  
  
"Yeah, honey?" His stare was locked on the television.  
  
"I won't be in to work today. Let everyone know for me, please?"  
  
"Sure thing. You sure you're alright?" He still didn't turn around.  
  
"I'm fine. Just a little tired. I'll be in tomorrow; have everyone leave me be for today, alright?"  
  
"Right. Get some rest, then."  
  
"Thanks Dad." Bulma sighed. She'd been afraid her father would've thought Vegeta had beaten her or something insane that wasn't near true. Especially after what Vegeta had said to her earlier that morning. She figured he was serious; she'd never known him to drink. Hell, she didn't even know if a Saiya-jin could GET drunk. Chichi never let Gokou drink and she'd never seen Vegeta lay a hand on the stuff. He wouldn't even drink the coffee she offered him every morning at breakfast. No matter to her, as long as he was eating and staying healthy. Gah! Those thoughts again. She wondered why she cared if he was healthy. Part of her mind nagged at her, telling her she'd care if he died, therefore he had to STAY healthy, so he wouldn't die. It was that simple.  
  
Vegeta had long since come back form his "training," and he'd witnessed Bulma's whole incident. He actually felt bad for her, he thought she could get down on her own, and she was looking pretty pained, to say the least. He simply gazed in from her window, watching as she came in and glanced around. Vegeta quickly ducked down, knowing true and well that she couldn't sense ki; therefore if she couldn't see him, she didn't know he was there. Vegeta was almost ashamed of himself for spying like this, but he grinned to himself and peeked up again.  
  
Bulma pulled her T-shirt off, tossing it aside as quickly as she had Yamcha. The Prince of all Saiya-jins could do nothing but let his jaw hang wide. He'd never imagined her like this before. Her waist was petite, just like the rest of her frame. Her breasts fit the size of her body perfectly; not too large but not too small. Fine collarbones tapered into her shoulders, and endless waves of marine colored hair fell into those deep cobalt eyes that Vegeta realized that he treasured so much. It hurt him to see how battered she actually was, and it was all because of him. Because he'd neglected to help her off of the roof. Scratches and bruises covered her upper extremity; ones that he wouldn't have found painful, but he was sure she was hurting pretty badly. She was a female; and she was an Earthling.  
  
He couldn't stand it anymore as she flung herself like a rag doll onto her bed, cringing as he perceived her facial expression. The prince pried open that little female's window, and stepped in, trying to be as quiet as possible. Bulma had been expecting him home sometime around nine, complaining about her not having dinner ready. Having him standing there in her bedroom at ten a.m. was a huge shock to her in its entirety.  
  
"V-Vegeta?" Her voice was hushed, as she turned to gaze at him, meeting his normally bitter coal orbs; now they held something different… regret? Remorse? Whatever it was, Bulma had never before seen anything like it hidden in Vegeta's eyes. Realizing she was only wearing her bra, she scrambled to pull a blanket over herself as Vegeta slowly advanced. She had no idea what he wanted, so all she could do was gaze at him unknowingly. He sighed before he spoke to her.  
  
"I'm sorry," He paused and waved a half in her direction, attempting to point out her various scrapes, cuts, and bangs from her little fall. He sat on the bed beside her, and smirked. She was totally clueless. He knew she cared for him. He could see straight through her little ploy.  
  
"Forget it. How were you supposed to know that I couldn't get down? I'm just a human after all, one that can't even fly." She tried her best to sound like she knew what she was talking about, and for a moment, she thought it was working, but only for a minute.  
  
"Woman, quit your whining. I said I was sorry. Drop it. I'm going to spend the day with you today. Feel honored that I'm doing this of my own will." Bulma stared at him for a moment before brusquely crossing her arms over her chest, her blanket falling as she did. This time, she didn't seem to care.  
  
"While YOU, mighty prince, may be able to take a beating, I can't. I am planning on resting today, so I can get back to work tomorrow. Simple as that. Make our little date some other time, Vegeta." He returned that same stare she'd given him.  
  
"Listen to ME, this time. I am giving my time to spend with you today, and I'll sit here and waste away this whole day if I have to. I'm warning you, if I've given up my training session for today just to get blown off, I won't be a happy man. You've got my word." Bulma couldn't reject. He was just so adorable when he was irritated.  
  
"Fine, fine. We'll sit here and watch movies all day then." Vegeta shrugged. At least she was agreeing to be with him. Maybe today he'd be able to figure out if he really wanted to try and deal with her in whatever this relationship thing that had all these humans so worked up about was. It was going to be a long, long day. 


	5. Vegeta + Romances = Bad.

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
"I can't believe I agreed to this." Vegeta stared at the blank television screen while Bulma popped in the third sentimental love movie that they were to see that day. Only half of the day was over; the prince groaned. This wasn't what he had in mind. Only half way through the first film, Bulma had been in tears, and hadn't stopped yet. That wretched sobbing was really starting to get on his nerves. But he'd promised himself he was going to make it up to her, somehow. And this was what she wanted, so he could do nothing but submit to this… this... tormenting. It just wasn't rational. Silently, he scolded himself. Since when had he been known to be REALISTIC? 'Feh! What is this woman DOING to me? She's making me think like just another normal human. Geez…'  
  
"Woman. Is this thing OVER yet?" Bulma looked to him with moist sapphire pools, and forced a weak smile.  
  
"No one said you had to stay, Vegeta. I can watch a movie alone, you know." The Saiya-jin looked intently to her for an instant before turning his nose up.  
  
"So you're saying you don't appreciate my company?"  
  
"Vegeta, Jesus. I never said that!"  
  
"You just did."  
  
"Did not."  
  
"Did so."  
  
"Stop acting like a baby."  
  
"You're the one acting like a baby, woman. Can't even go to work with a few scratches."  
  
"…"  
  
"Ha! See? I'm right, you're wrong, as usual."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
"Can't even take defeat like a man."  
  
"I'm not a man, so it doesn't matter."  
  
"…Shut up."  
  
"Ha! This time, dear prince, I'M right, and YOU'RE wrong."  
  
"…Weakling," Vegeta turned to face Bulma, a mischievous smirk forming on his visage. His little princess glared at him, and scoffed.  
  
"Fine. Stay. Get over here, now," she pointed to the space directly next to her; she wanted to rest her head on his shoulder. Bulma just couldn't get that soothing masculine aroma out of her head. She wanted more of it.  
  
Vegeta minded, and moved closer to her, sitting cross-legged with his head resting in his hands like he had earlier that morning. Timidly at first, she moved her head not to his shoulder, but rested her head in the prince's lap, smiling faintly to herself. Vegeta caught this, but the woman resting in his lap had no idea he'd seen.  
  
They sat through half of another movie, Vegeta more or less staring at the side of Bulma's head than the TV screen, and Bulma quickly on her way to falling fast asleep. He positioned his hand on her cheek, feeling how soft her skin was; how good it felt against his naked hands. He had to tell her how he felt, but his pride just wouldn't bow to permit him to. He suddenly felt a pang of humiliation because of it; he couldn't tell the woman he cared for how he felt, just because of this damned thing called pride… called arrogance. Because of everything that made Vegeta, Vegeta. He was left alone with his thoughts as Bulma slept wordlessly on his lap. The prince pulled a bedspread over her, but dared not move. He had no intentions on waking her… not for the world, for anything, for anyone. Well, except him, of course. But even he decided against it.  
  
Bulma awoke to Vegeta's soft heartbeat. A bit surprised, she stared in disbelief at the Saiya-jin prince that held her close; apparently, he'd fallen asleep as well. He was laying on the right side of her bed, 'his' female pulled close to his chest, his arm draped around her waist. Bulma lingered on the thought for a moment, and decided that she could get used to waking up like this every single morning before she had to work. She glanced at the clock; one o'clock a.m. Still sore from her fall, she recoiled, trying not to make any noise. The last thing she wanted was to wake Vegeta up unwillingly. She sighed quietly, and buried her head back into his torso. 'I can't believe this is really happening… I've wanted it for so long. And now, I'm lying here, in his arms, and it feels so…right…' Bulma's thoughts were interrupted when a very groggy Vegeta sat up slowly, dragging his arm over her chest, yawning some as he did. She glanced at him, a bit bewildered.  
  
"I'm sorry if I woke you up, Vegeta…"  
  
"You didn't, I woke up on my own." Bulma was hesitant to accept this as true at first, but then nodded into her pillow, signifying that she understood. "Why are you up, anyway? You're the injured one, you should be resting." He arched an eyebrow, and earned himself a playful punch on her part.  
  
"Vegeta, I swear. Sometimes you are insatiable."  
  
"And why is that bad?"  
  
"I never said it was bad."  
  
"You were implying it."  
  
"Was not."  
  
"Was so." He chuckled as she wrinkled up her nose in frustration. She was just so damn… delectable when she was irate. He loved every bit of it.  
  
"Why do you argue just for the sake of arguing?" Vegeta chuckled at the forthrightness of her question. But she DID deserve an answer.  
  
"Because I am a Saiya-jin prince, that's why."  
  
"That doesn't explain anything." Bulma turned to face him, the covers arranged over her hip, her taut stomach exposed in its totality. She rested her the side of her head in her palm; her elbow propped up against her pillow.  
  
"It explains enough."  
  
"Come on, Vegeta, tell me."  
  
"…Let's just say the way I was raised; I refuse to be walked all over like a doormat ever again." Bulma caught the look he gave her, and quit her prying for the evening. She could tell he'd had enough, and it was something he didn't want to discuss. She figured it would come with time. The prince took in a solid breath and released it, getting out of the bed completely.  
  
"Vegeta chan..? Where're you going?"  
  
"I'm going to change. I'll be right back, okay?" Bulma gave her consent as soon as she grasped that he was still wearing the one-piece fight suit that he loved so much. Feeling too tired to change, and too lazy to even stand, the only option she had was to sleep in what she was wearing. Vegeta didn't seem to mind and she sure as hell didn't.  
  
Vegeta silently pulled off the close-fitting suit. It actually felt good to get out of it for once; he'd always favored it above any other garments, but for some reason; not this time. He blindly reached for the pajama pants that Bulma had bought him a while back. Stepping into them, he hopped around, fumbling about carelessly for the light switch. Upon finding it, he flipped it on, and gazed longingly at his bed. It wasn't that he minded sharing one with the female, it was just that he found this one much more comfortable than his own. He should've moved her in there when he had the chance; there wasn't any way in hell she was going to move now that she was awake. He'd just have to deal with it. The Saiya-jin picked up his boots and suit and tossed them into a corner, making note of where he put them for easy access the next morning. But now, he was headed back to the female he thought of as his, even though she didn't know as of yet.  
  
When he returned, Bulma held up the blankets, welcoming him back in her own odd sort of way. Vegeta gladly accepted, and curled back up, pulling her to his chest once again. Her hands were tucked under her own chin. Her hair tickled his chest, but he suppressed any movement on his part. As soon as he was confident that she was sleeping serenely, he permitted himself to sleep as well. For the first time since the prince had left Vegeta-sei, his sleep wasn't plagued by nightmares, but of dreams that appealed to his every sense. He slept well. 


	6. Stupid humans. Always jumping to conclu...

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my textbooks, and my old, crappy DDR pads. ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
  
  
Bulma slowly opened her endless depths of cobalt, finding the sleeping Prince's arm draped tenderly over her waist. She smiled slowly; she hadn't thought that he'd still be with her that late in the morning, or would've at least woken up to feed himself. But there he lay. Abruptly, she became wide-eyed. 'What did I just DO?' She frantically looked to the sleeping body beside her. 'He's not making this easy on me… does he have to be so… attractive?' She was almost afraid to even move; the last thing she wanted was a grumpy Vegeta. 'I… I slept with Vegeta. But, I don't regret it. Not one bit, he can be gentle. I know he can.'  
  
The little female's eyes smiled, even though her lips did not; her face was hidden in his chest. Not noting the time, she'd fallen straight back to sleep, finding that tremendously easy with her, her, prince there beside her. She knew she had to work, and she wasn't one to procrastinate, but this was different. And she slept both ends of her mouth pulled up into a trivial smile.  
  
It wasn't until the sun was so high in the sky it would be starting to set before Vegeta stirred. He hadn't been that well rested since he was a baby. Maybe not even then. And he would've still been fast asleep, but someone was pounding the door, making it near impossible to ignore. The prince glanced to the aqua-haired female nonchalantly, tossing around the idea of waking her and making her get it, seeing as it was HER room, and they were guests for HER. He hated answering questions, but the content face against his chest made him melt, and he grumbled, stumbling blindly over to her door, before forcing it open, leaning himself against the frame of the thing as well.  
  
As the door opened, Vegeta smirked as the very surprised visage of Dr. Briefs came into plain sight. But that smirk faded just as quickly as it had come when he noticed Yamcha standing behind him, his hands resting in his pockets. He scowled, trying to pick out the right words to say. Dr. Briefs was apparently too stunned to even say anything, and Yamcha opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but the touchy Saiya-jin addressed him before he could.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?" Vegeta was still leaning casually against the doorframe, but his facial expression told Yamcha he was anything but calm.  
  
"I'm here to, uh, apologize to Bulma, and see if I could…" He paused for a moment, noticing Vegeta was waiting for him to finish. "T-take her to dinner tonight, if that's alright with you, Vegeta."  
  
'Hm. He's getting brave talking to me like that.' Yamcha shifted his weight uneasily, Dr. Briefs still standing there in astonishment. It was a good five minutes in silence before the Doctor had the nerve to even say something, and he chose his words carefully.  
  
"Vegeta, if you don't mind me asking, how long has this…been going on?" Vegeta shrugged innocently; the only man was worried so easily.  
  
"So, she was cheating on me, too!" Yamcha barked out, earning icy stares from both Vegeta and Dr. Briefs.  
  
"She was not, human." Yamcha didn't quite believe. He still gawked at the prince in amazement.  
  
"Where's Bulma?" The stupid human was getting nosy, and Vegeta didn't like it.  
  
"Sleeping, fool. Where else would she be?"  
  
"Why were you with her, last night?"  
  
"None of your fucking business."  
  
"…But it IS my business." Dr. Briefs finally decided to butt his way into this argument.  
  
"Fine," Vegeta rolled his eyes before continuing. "She fell out of a tree yesterday, and I felt I had to make it up to her, seeing as I … overlooked a few minor details."  
  
"MAKE IT UP TO HER?" Yamcha was just plain infuriated. Bulma always said she wasn't ready when he wanted sex, but one night, and Vegeta gets whatever he wants. And the prince noticed Yamcha's reaction. It was exactly what he'd wanted… to imply the wrong thing. These humans took everything so personally, too. Vegeta felt a pair of hands wrap around his arm, and gazed down into the river of aqua tendrils, before she set her eyes on Yamcha, and as soon as she did, Vegeta let her have at it.  
  
"It wasn't like that, and even if it was," Bulma stared at Yamcha with a look of contempt that he'd never thought possible from such a tiny woman. "It wouldn't be EITHER of your business anyway, because I'm a grown woman and can do what I please." Vegeta smirked at Bulma's implication. She glared at her father, and jerked Vegeta's arm, pulling him back inside the room, slamming the door in the two men's faces.  
  
Vegeta stared at her, surprised at her series of rash movements and actions. He watched her as she sat in her desk chair, an apparent wave of uncertainty washing over her. Seating himself on her desk, he silently questioned her, and she gave him her answers.  
  
"He's such a jerk. All I want to do is find love. Someone to care for me, but I guess that's not going to be him, eh?" She half-heartedly chuckled to herself, trying to fight back tears. Vegeta could tell, but he did nothing, sitting, and listening. "I still can't believe he thought I was chea—"  
  
"You heard all of that?"  
  
"...Yeah. Sorry for eavesdropping."  
  
"It doesn't matter, woman." She sighed and nodded.  
  
"I have to work today."  
  
"I doubt that."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's already 5 in the afternoon." Vegeta smirked, as Bulma's jaw dropped, and her eyes widened once again.  
  
"NO! This is the second day I've been gone! I can't believe I let it slip, and… I.."  
  
"Shut up. It's already too late to worry about it, so why bother?" Bulma pondered Vegeta's reasoning, and nodded. Whether anyone else would give him credit, she knew he was very bright when he wanted to be, and to be truthful, she understood his logic on a lot of things.  
  
"So that means you've lost two days of training already."  
  
"…Fuck." Bulma smirked in return, which made Vegeta's olive face flush slightly with rage. She was mocking him. He couldn't believe it, but when she smiled like that… he felt himself grow warm again, and he swallowed hard. "Fine, then. I'm watching TV." He tossed his body onto her bed, and grabbed the remote, watching her settle in next to him, pulling blankets up to her neck. Though it wasn't visible, he smiled to himself, though he had a lot to think about when he was training the next day.  
  
In the kitchen, Yamcha was in a fit of rage, screaming obscenities in every direction, telling the old Doctor how sorry he was, and how Vegeta didn't deserve her. He slammed his fists on the table, and looked to Bulma's father for a reaction. Yamcha had always wondered to himself how the old man could stay so utterly calm through almost anything, but he shrugged the thought off, as he started to speak.  
  
"I agree with you, Yamcha. You suited my daughter well. Someone needs to settle her down, and Vegeta most definitely is not going to do that. If anything, he's going to make her even more free-spirited than she already is." Yamcha nodded, and smirked. "Do what you will to get her back." He nodded again, bid the Doctor farewell, and began tossing around sick plots as he walked out of the Capsule Corp. compound to his car. 


	7. Meditation sucks.

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, I'd be happy to give you my gym socks and my leftover chocolate pie! ^_^  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
Vegeta's sharp hearing had allowed him to hear Yamcha's one-sided conversation with Bulma's father. The weakling human couldn't do a thing to him, and if he tried to hurt Bulma again, he'd be dead. Blasted into the next dimension. The Prince scared himself sometimes with thoughts like these; he didn't want to care for her. In ANY way. But if it had to be like this, he was going to make the best of it. And he wasn't going to turn to sentimental mush in the process. He considered these all very admirable intents.  
  
Upon Yamcha finishing his ranting, Vegeta turned to Bulma to say something to her, finding the blue-haired woman fast asleep beside him, the blankets hiked up to her chin and beyond just like she had been before. He needed to get away, and now that she was sleeping, this was the ideal time for doing so.  
  
He sat up slowly, the bed shifting under the change in weight, and waited a moment to make sure she wasn't going to wake. Upon finding her still in a sound sleep, he darted out of the room, quickly and quietly shutting the door behind him, wide eyed. He almost felt bad for leaving her. She'd looked so comfortable in that place nestled in his chest, but he had to think. He had to get away from her.  
  
She was distracting the Saiya-jin prince from the one thing he had been promised in his life; to become one of the legendary. It was all for him. Bulma was taking this away from him; taking away his concentration. Today was going to be set aside for meditation.  
  
He soon set off, upon dressing himself; armor, boots, gloves, and suit. With that, the prince took to the skies, forcing himself not to look back. He knew the woman was going to be infuriated when she woke, and she found the side of the bed he'd occupied the past two nights cold and empty. Vegeta had grown to know her better than most, and it would only make things worse if he avoided her, so after his meditation session was through for the day, he decided to return to her, as long as she didn't start that dreadful screaming.  
  
A rather desolate island came into view, and Vegeta saw this as the perfect place for silent reflection. 'What was the start of all of this, anyway? Was it when I saw her on Namek...? I don't believe that any living…STRAIT male would disagree that she is beautiful. But… why?' He settled himself in the shade of a long palm tree, and sat bow-legged, taking in deep, steady breaths as he did, beginning to think everything over once again. 'This just isn't right. She's disturbing my training habits; this is the first time in two days I've had a chance to train… that damned woman has made me softhearted.' His arms folded over his chest, still deep in thought.  
  
After what seemed like hours, the Saiya-jin no Ouji stirred and glanced to the sky; it had shifted to luminous shades of oranges and pinks. He took in a rather elongated breath, and let out a sigh to match. 'Time to go and face the music… GAH! Stupid Chikyuu-jin sayings. What the fuck are they DOING to me?!' With that, the prince took off towards Capsule Corps.  
  
Much to his surprise, he found Bulma still fast asleep, in the exact same position he left her in; he let out a silent sigh of relief. No explaining. He didn't really know why he cared if she yelled… it didn't make him feel horrible or angry… just a little guilty. As soon as he had slipped through her window, he noiselessly dropped his armor, and gloves. His boots and his suit followed these, all of which were replaced by nothing; his pants were still in his bedroom.  
  
Bulma stirred as he slipped under the blankets, totally unashamed of his nakedness. (A/N –And he shouldn't be! Vegeta is one good lookin' boy, to say the least. Man.. I'd love to see HIM in that state…) He smirked down towards her, pulling the petite figure to his chest just as it had been the night before; nothing appeared to have changed. He was actually grateful for once in his life. Ever so slowly, Bulma's eyelids fluttered open, only to be met by Vegeta's never-ending depths of the most sincere onyx she'd ever seen. He was still lying there, holding her. Her head nuzzled into the crook of his neck, and she murmured into it; hoping he could hear.  
  
"You're still here, Vegeta.."  
  
"Of course I am, baka. Why wouldn't I be?"  
  
"…I don't know." Vegeta sighed. "What was it you needed to talk to me about this morning?"  
  
"…Never mind." He choked up, and proceeded to mentally slap himself.  
  
"Come on, Vegeta. If something's bothering you, you can tell me…"  
  
'Not if the problem IS you, baka…not if it's you.' He let out another sigh (A/N- there's a lot of sighing going on! Gomen!) tried to form the words he wanted to say without twisting them into something that would earn him a verbal assault, and being ignored for days on end. The prince pulled her closer to his nude body, and buried his visage in her hair, taking in the womanly scent.  
  
"Vegeta…" She was quiet; quieter than usual. She was acting like she wanted to say something to him, but she said nothing. He lifted up her chin so she was looking directly towards him, and he kissed her. He held her there, the fire igniting between the two as soon as their lips touched. The prince smirked into the kiss, and became a bit rougher with her.  
  
Bulma was content in his arms until she felt something hard press against her thigh. She jerked back, looking him over. "V-Vegeta. Y- you're.." She blushed copiously, and gulped. The one that she'd been longing for for so long was laying stripped beside her.  
  
Her blushing subsided, and she leered back at him, grabbing his face in her hands, crushing her mouth onto his own, desire burning each time her tongue brushed against his own, her knee gently rubbing against the inside of his thigh.  
  
Vegeta was totally lost in all of this. Did she want him as much as he did her? Was she just upset over the loss of her former mate and wanted a good lay? Did she really care for him? He was blind when it came to this sort of thing. 'I'll just assume what I want to hear from her, and that will be that.'  
  
  
  
Gah! I'm just not in the mood to write a sex chapter tonight.. so I had to stop there. I'm in the mood to READ one. ^_^;; I know Vegeta SEEMS OOC, but think about it. You never see him and Bulma in the bedroom together! We don't know what goes on behind closed doors… I'm assuming he's … fluff. Well. Half fluff. We'll see for later! New chapter as soon as I get in the mood to write about Vegeta's n3kk3dn3ss. 


	8. Midnight visits and Son smiles.

Yada, yada. Insert disclaimer here. Yada, yada. DBZ isn't mine; it's property of Toei Animation and Toriyama-sama. Yada, yada. I'm not making any money off this fic, but if you insist on suing me, JUST DON'T TAKE MY……. Uh…….. Vegeta? ::Grins:: He's mine, and you all know it! Though I love him and B-chan as a couple… sometimes I just want to murder her!  
  
'………' Thought.  
  
"………" Spoken.  
  
  
  
Bulma took a moment to reflect on all that was happening to her- it was amazing, in her eyes, how right it had felt from the very first time he had held her- almost…comforted her. When was it that her affection for the haughty prince grew? When did fate step in and decide her destiny? Her doom? None of this really mattered to her, but she thought of it anyway. All she could see now was the proud, arrogant, and now extremely passionate Saiya-jin prince. 'I wonder what Vegeta's thinking…I guess there's only one way to find ou-" Her thinking was interrupted, however, by Vegeta who was conveniently hovering over her. His breathing was steady but quick; he was growing impatient, and struggled to remain calm.  
  
"Onna-chan…" He sat back, for the moment, contented by simply gazing into her eyes – but not for long. He wanted to hear her voice, namely calling his name…mentally, physically. In pain and in pleasure. Never that idiot human's ever again, if she'd ever…  
  
"Vegeta…I…"  
  
"What, woman?" He was huffing still, unable to conceal his need for her much longer.  
  
"I've…never done this before…"  
  
"You still want to..? You realize what this entails…" There was a long silence, before Vegeta's extremely masculine voice cut through the air like a knife. "Onna..?"  
  
"W-what do you mean, Vegeta?"  
  
"Me taking your 'innocence', so to speak, just adds to everything…if we do this, woman, you will be mine for eternity… longer. Even if reincarnation exists, if we don't find each other- we will BOTH be alone. ALONE, onna-chan. If anyone other than myself touches you, they will die by my hand, no questions asked. No regrets." She was a sight to behold, all those pent up emotions showing through those rounded sapphires…fear, relief, hesitance, passion…but above all, determination.  
  
"…When did this start, Ouji-chan?"  
  
"On Namek, I guess. You were definitely a sight for sore eyes, you still are."  
  
"You're not so bad, my warrior prince. Not so bad." Vegeta scoffed, kissing her collarbone, leaving a fiery trail behind.  
  
"Not so bad- you've got to do better than that if you want to be taken as my mate, my blue-haired vixen." Bulma smiled inwardly. The idea of being with the hot-tempered Saiya-jin no Ouji for the rest of forever was appealing to her more and more with every passing second.  
  
She again ruminated on how their relationship had grown…little by little they had been maturing to be closer and closer. Bulma had even talked him into going on a shopping trip with her; something even Son-kun wouldn't have braved with herself and Chichi. The pink shirt. He'd wanted the PINK shirt. It was then that Bulma had wondered if the prince was gay. She'd asked him why he had picked it, and all she got for an answer had been a casual shrug, and a statement about how he liked the color. After a protracted silence, she dared to simply ask about the Saiya-jin's sexuality. He'd given her a confused look; and she explained. The remark had hit home. He had turned up his nose in disgust, and flown home without so much as a word.  
  
Bulma giggled at the memory, but was brought back to earth by Vegeta's VERY serious expression. She really thought long and hard, and threw into account that this was probably a now-or-never sort of offer…but the word 'forever' rung out in her mind. Forever. But after all, she'd always dreamt of this. She'd even once told her mother of her fondness for the quarrelsome alien.  
  
"Vegeta.. I…" She hesitated, his hot breath against her cheek most unquestionably not helping her form the words she wanted to say.  
  
"Nani, onna-chan?" For a moment, before Bulma spoke, the pompous Saiya-jin prince had looked… afraid? No… worried, maybe?  
  
"You'll never leave me, right?" Vegeta had the feeling she was building into something important, but he couldn't quite place it yet. He was vigilant; females were not a force to be reckoned with. It was the first and foremost rule of battle…to be wary. Never underestimate your opponent, no matter how weak they may appear.  
  
"A Saiya-jin bond is forever."  
  
"And you'll never cheat?"  
  
"Don't compare me to that Chikyuu-jin, onna. A Saiya-jin shares his mate with no one."  
  
"And, if we have children?" Vegeta smirked at this.  
  
"The brat would make a decent successor. He will be trained. You don't have a say so in that."  
  
"I wouldn't try to keep you from training it anyway. That's a death wish, Veggie-chan." She winked at him, and shot him a smile, just to make sure he knew she was only playing around. He scowled at his new pet name, but knew once she made up her mind, there was no changing it.  
  
"Are you accepting my proposal, Woman?" She said nothing, but instead answered by wrapping her slender, milky arms around his muscular neck. Vegeta gasped; the places around his collar area where her arms lay quickly becoming heated from her close contact. When she was with the human, she was intangible. He would never stoop as far low as to take another's claim. But now, she lay beneath him. About to be his, and his alone. And no one was going to stop him, except the slightest tapping against the window. 'What the fuck?'  
  
Outside of the bedroom window, a middle-aged man with a brain no larger than that of a five year old was hovering outside, the classic Son smile radiating off of his face. Little did he know what he interrupted, and how angry the Saiya-jin prince was going to be when he got his hands around his neck………  
  
After a few moments of nauseating silence, the prince spoke up.  
  
"KAKAROTTO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I…AM…GOING…TO…KILL YOU!!!!!!" Gokou covered his ears with his hands, thinking that Vegeta, of all people, should know about Saiya-jin hearing, and how sensitive it was. 'I guess he's been with Bulma too long! She is awful loud someti-' He couldn't finish his thought. An ALMOST naked Vegeta was standing before him, ready to kill. 


End file.
